


Should’ve Run

by confusedarthur



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble, Injury, One Shot, RDR2, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), arthur morgan - Freeform, van der linde gang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 22:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17858564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedarthur/pseuds/confusedarthur
Summary: A short drabble about random segments of Arthur.





	Should’ve Run

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I threw together that didn’t really go anywhere so I made it short instead.

The blood was warm and sticky. It smeared light red and orange across the hairs on his arm, and the smell was awful.   
The horse was still on the ground, the knife wound still bleeding where it was put out of his misery.   
“I’m sorry, boy,” were the last words the horse ever heard.   
-  
The cliffside was rigid and far above the ground, and he was scared. He had nowhere to turn except forward to get shot, or behind to the raging waters below. Only one gave him the option to live,   
and he jumped.   
Shots flew past where he stood, the ghost of his stance riddled with bullet holes. 

The water was barely warm. It was further up in the mountains in the bitter morning of the day, and the law had somehow found his makeshift camp just in front of a cliff that was near the Dakota River.   
Adrenaline and fear pumped through his veins as his arms flailed to reach the surface, his face craving to touch the open air. His lungs burned and felt tight against his chest. The water was relentless and thrashed him around until the only thing he could breathe in was water and the mist that flew off of it. 

The land greeted him with open arms. His body heaved onto the ground as he coughed up water and took in strangled gasps for fresh air. Death receded into the corner of his mind and his soul as he choked on the air around him. Not today.  
-  
The bullet pierced his skin and fresh blood blossomed through the shirt like a new born flower in the spring. He grunted through the pain and made sure the bastard paid for what he did to his shoulder.   
He glanced down at the wound he now branded. Everyone around him was dead, killed by his own hand, and this is what he deserved, he thought.   
He got back to camp and had it treated, bullets meeting skin not being a very new thing around here, especially to him. He’s had so many close calls that he wouldn’t be able to count those times on his fingers anymore. 

He chopped the wood and his shoulder gave a dull ache of protest. He should’ve rested it more, but he had no heart in it to care. He had to pull his weight or he would be useless to the family around him. Jobs called his name from every corner like the Grim Reaper calling his name from the depths of Hell. Any job could lead to his end, but he did them anyway, with the protests of his past lover and his survival instincts and his common sense-and practically everything but himself and his family-screaming at him.   
He should’ve run when he had the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll be posting more long term stuff on here so if you are interested in that, feel free to subscribe to my profile or if not that’s cool too. :) you can find my tumblr @confusedarthur
> 
> thank you for reading! :)


End file.
